


Out With It

by kaydeefalls



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-30
Updated: 2002-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Elijah and Dominic have officially come out of the closet. Ha. Like it's ever that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out With It

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a big thank you to gabby hope for the maaah-velous beta.

How can Dom just sleep like that? So peaceful. Just completely turning the rest of the world off. He's even smiling a little.

All right, so I'm not exactly the first person to go all shmoopy while watching their lover sleep. But this isn't quite shmoop. More amazed wonderment, I think.

But I just don't get it. How can he look so happy while he sleeps? How can he just forget about all the chaos we've managed to stir up in the past few days? Our relations with the press have been shot all to hell, people on the street gawk at us as we walk by, and Dom is smiling in his sleep.

I've tried to adopt his attitude. So, we just officially came out to the world, no big deal. Just announced that hey, we're gay and living happily together as a couple, and ha ha you never saw THAT coming. Just two young, attractive, homosexual actors being pulled into the spotlight -- no, check that, pulling the spotlight onto themselves. No problem. It's been easy.

Easy, my ass.

Only once did Dom ask me if I regretted it. If I regretted our mutual decision to out ourselves. It was the second day after the little announcement, and the press had just finished chewing us up and spitting us out again, as per usual. We were in a limo, being driven to the next incredulous and potentially scathing interviewer, and I probably looked about as shell-shocked as I felt.

"Do you regret it?" he asked me, and for one, horrible moment, I almost said yes.

"Of course not," I replied, forcing a smile, and he accepted it. But I wanted to say yes, I do.

We found a small mountain of mail waiting for us when we got home, and opened it all, letter by agonizing letter. Some of it was supportive. Some was almost boastful -- "I knew it all along," etc. And some was downright nasty. And I wanted to say yes, I do regret it. But I didn't.

Every time we stepped out into the street, there were paparazzi and interested fans -- or anti-fans. I could feel their eyes (and cameras) following us, watching our every move, catching every word we said to each other. And I wanted to tell him yes, I regret it.

And now, watching him sleep, I'm tempted to whisper in his ear that yes, I regret it.

But I don't. I never do. Because Dom wouldn't hear, "I regret our decision to come out to the press." He'd hear, "I don't love you." And I can picture the look in his eyes, the hurt and the anger and the doubt. Once I'd said it, he would stop listening to me. He would tune out my protestations of love, ignore my desperate kisses, close his eyes so he couldn't see mine. And we'd be in the tabloids the next morning (again!), another couple fallen victim to the awesome destructive power of the media.

I actually had a nightmare about that last night.

Billy called us this evening, an hour or so before we went to bed. He talked to Dom for a while, and made him laugh a few times -- and I'm grateful for that, because it's been pretty hard for us to laugh lately. Then the phone was passed to me. "Hey, mate," Billy said, and I wanted to cry at the friendliness of his voice. God, my life has been lacking in good, old-fashioned friendship in the past few days.

"Hey, Billy."

"Still hanging in there?"

"I think so."

"So all's well in happy hobbit land?"

I laughed. Sorta. It was meant to be a joke, anyway, and I wanted Billy to know that I appreciated the effort.

Back in New Zealand, during filming, we hobbits did sometimes fight amongst ourselves. Hey, no family is without the occasional squabble. One afternoon, when Peter noticed that things were a bit off, he asked if anything was wrong.

"Nope," Billy replied, with false cheer. "All's well in happy hobbit land."

It became an inside joke. Whenever personal issues threatened to interfere with filming, Peter would say, "Is all well in happy hobbit land?" It was the signal that we'd gone too far, and we'd better shape up.

Once, just once, I lost my temper. I can't even remember who I was so angry with or why, but I shouted back at Peter, "No, all is NOT well in happy hobbit land!"

Everyone stared at me. "Okay," Peter said after a moment, in a dangerously soft voice. "You've got five minutes to MAKE it well again." We filled in the rest: ...or you'll be looking for a day job. It was not necessarily an empty threat -- as much as I adored Viggo, I'd never really forgotten about that Stuart Townsend guy.

Needless to say, the problem had vanished before five minutes was up.

Talking to Billy on the phone, I felt the same urge to yell that all was NOT well in happy fucking hobbit land.

But I forced a laugh instead.

"It'll all blow over eventually," Billy assured me. "Don't worry, Lij."

"I'm not worried," I told him. And I'm not, not really. It probably won't hurt my career, or Dom's -- look at Ian, he's been openly gay for years and is still working steadily. And I'm not worried about the press -- they'll lose interest sooner or later, as long as Dom and I don't try to provoke them.

But maybe I'm just a little worried about us as an 'us.'

Which is why I won't tell Dom that I regret anything. Because I always want to be here to watch him sleep.

He shifts a little, pressing closer to me. He breathes lightly -- my Dommie almost never snores. His face is lined with nervousness and worry during the day, but those lines are gone now. I'm tempted to trace the outline of that face, run my fingers along the smoothness and stubble, but I don't want to wake him.

"Remember the way it used to be?" I whisper, almost without realizing it. "We were supposed to be keeping it all a secret, but sometimes we forgot. Remember the time we held hands in public, and some teenybopper caught it on film?" I laugh softly. "Remember that Japanese press conference, when I couldn't keep my eyes off you the whole time, and I barely kept myself from kissing you every time you leaned in to whisper something to me?"

Dom is still smiling softly in his sleep. Must be one hell of a dream.

"Remember how we tried to hide it?" I continue. "Remember the outrageous stunts we pulled with other cast members, so the media would overlook anything we did together? Remember scouting for various nooks and crannies and secluded broom closets wherever there was another premiere or awards show or event, just so we could slip away for five or ten minutes alone? Remember the way Billy and Sean would roll their eyes and poke us whenever they thought we were being too obvious?"

I almost wish he was awake, but I'd never find the nerve to say all this if he was.

"It was hard," I admit softly. "But it was ours. It was our secret, our special time, our stolen kisses. There was nobody watching us, and it was ours." My voice catches in my throat. "I miss that. I remember why we made this decision, and it made sense at the time, and maybe it still does. But I feel like we've lost something, and I want it back."

I've run out of words, and Dom hasn't stirred anyway. I sigh and close my eyes, snuggling closer against him.

A few long minutes pass, and I'm just starting to drift off when I hear Dom's low voice in my ear. "We'll get through this. It'll be ours again." And I thought he'd been sleeping.

In spite of everything -- the chaos, the paparazzi, the scathing interviewers, the occasional hate mail, and the regret -- in spite of all not being well in happy hobbit land, I smile as I fall asleep.


End file.
